


To Dance to Glory

by Yizuki_Khonsu



Series: One-shots and Unfinished Works [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Princess Tutu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:04:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yizuki_Khonsu/pseuds/Yizuki_Khonsu
Summary: When Harry picks up a strange book in the Restricted Section, he catches the attention of a Dark Wizard with a penchant for tragedies.





	To Dance to Glory

**Author's Note:**

> This one is very unpolished. I'll probably come back and rewrite this one if I ever get inspired again.

Chapter One:

  
  


_ Once upon a time, there was a man who died. The man’s work was the writing and telling of stories, but even he could not defy death. The last story he was working on was about a brave and handsome prince who vanquishes a crafty raven. But now it seems their battle will go on for eternity. “I’m sick and tired of this!” cried the raven. “I’m sick and tired of this!” cried the prince as well. The raven escaped from the pages of the story and the prince pursued the foul creature. In the end, the prince took out his own heart and sealed the raven away by using a forbidden power. Just then, a murmur came from somewhere. “This is great!” said the old man who was supposed to have died. For what no one had known, was that this man was a wizard of great power.  It was through an Ancient spell that he sealed himself within his own stories, to live forever and continue to write new tragic tales. For within every book he had ever written was the power to ensnare a new character and begin a new story… _

**

It was pitch black in the castle, only the moonlight illuminated the dark corridors. All was quiet through the halls, the only slight disturbance being the hoot of an occasional owl and the subtle rustle of fabric and soft breaths. A dim light bobbed and weaved its way down the halls, pausing at side corridors and sneaking down staircases, slipping through a pair of great oak doors that led into a vast library. A rustle of fabric revealed the dim light to be a students’ lantern held by aloft by a ghostly pale hand. Small, tentative steps carried the lantern forward as the being progressed further and further into the gloom until it reached a second set of doors. A massive chain lay in front of the intricately carved screens and separated the front from the gloomy back. The lantern hesitated for just moment, before the tip of a dark wood wand peaked out from between the folds of fabric.

“Alohomora,” with a whisper, the doors unlocked and the lantern started its journey again, gliding over the chain and into the dark depth of the restricted section. There was a pause just on the other side, as if waiting for an alarm to start screaming through the halls. When nothing happened, the hand gripping the lantern visibly relaxed before another materialized and pushed away at thin air that solidified into a silvery hood, revealing the pale, pinched face of a young boy with deep black hair and startling emerald green eyes. With one final glance about to make sure the coast was clear, Harry sighed in relief and set off into the library to find anything on Nicholas Flamel.

“Accidents of the Ancients…Basics of the Black Arts...Centrifugal Forces?” Harry blinked at the title, wondering how a muggle book got into the restricted section of the Hogwarts library of all places. Figuring it had to have been misplaced, he walked past it, not even paying attention to all the books around him except for their faded titles. A flash of gleaming gold, so pale it looked almost silver under the moonlight, caught his eye. Curious, he bent down. Bound in embossed black leather, despite the wear and faded gold lettering, was a handsome black book. Heavy, iron chains were wrapped around it, hiding the title from his view. Harry squinted, between the poor lighting and the heavy links of chain, there was no way for him to read the title. Mindful of the rusty, rattling chains, Harry carefully removed the book from its shelf and turned it around. Luckily, the front title was easier to make out. “Der Prinz und Der Rabe von…von-Dross-Drosselmeyer?” He sighed. It wasn’t a book on Flamel after all. Looking now he could see that the “P” on the spine was faded and peeled, making it look more like an “F”. Still….maybe it mentioned him? Though he couldn’t say for sure. Intrigued, Harry tried to crack the book open, and take a peek at the table of contents, only to be hampered by the chain. Frustrated, he pulled it down, trying to get a better look at the cover. “It’s all in German….” He managed to deduce, before with a crack, the chain snapped in his hands and fell to the ground. Harry cringed, eyes shifting warily about and ears peaked for the sounds of Filch or Mrs. Norris. When no one came, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the book, picking it up from where it had fallen from nerveless fingers. The moment it was in his hands, the words seemed to wriggle in front of his eyes, shifting and morphing in a way that made Harry’s eyes water and cross. When the words finally settled, he noticed that the book was no longer in German, but English. The words looked fresh, new, and well taken care of. That above everything else freaked him out. How had that been possible?

“Weird….” Shaking off the unsettled feeling that rested on his shoulders, Harry opened the book. “The Prince and the Raven, Chapter One: Black Feathers.” He never noticed the way the runes decorating the edges of the book glowed in the moonlight, and the people depicted in every illustration seemed to stare at the young boy as he read their story.

**

Drosselmeyer was bored. Bored bored bored bored bored, and just to mix it up: he was board. An Oak board. The ghostly puppeteer giggled at his own joke before sighing. It had been this way ever since those unimaginative farts had killed him and removed his method of working magic. Stuck in the timeless realm of fairy tales, he had been forced to sit here and watch all his beautiful stories grind to a halt, unable to extend himself that much for now. He needed to regain all of his strength before he could try and write his grand finale. White teeth bared themselves in a feral smile of amusement. Still, that clever, noble, idiotic prince. Never in all his dreams would he have thought to rob him of his memories, his emotions, his very being and leave him an empty shell. It was so terribly delightful. He was almost glad he had been offed. If not he wouldn’t have been able to see such a beautiful  twist to his story. For now though, he was still bored. That’s when he felt it, the spark of warmth and electricity and touch of  _ other _ . Someone had picked up one of his books. Drosselmeyer grinned. He wondered who it was this time. It had been so long since someone had touched his creations. Most people were warned away from them, or locked them away so that they would never escape and lure other people into his web. It made him wonder who had been brave enough, or foolish enough, to risk becoming one of his puppets. Extending his awareness, Drosselmeyer followed the link far past the borders of his hometown, of even his country, until he came to a single book, illuminated by fading candlelight set in a small student’s lantern, and held gently in the hands of a pale, pre-adolescent boy.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled. “You must be very brave my boy. Very brave, or very foolish.” He leaned close into the boys’ face, knowing he wouldn’t see him. “Or do you even know what you hold?”  Not bothering to wait for an answer, Drosselmeyer concentrated on the book in the boys’ hands, fully awakening the runes pressed and painted into every illustration. An exact replica of the book the boy was reading appeared in the man’s hands, opening itself up to reveal blank pages that quickly soaked themselves with ink, writing down the child’s story. And the more that he read, the wider Drosselmeyer’s grin got until it threatened to split his face. “Oh my,” He giggled, devouring each sentence as it bled into the page. “Oh my! Oh dear oh dear oh dear! Whatever shall you do young Potter? Such a formidable opponent, such a harsh and demanding world in front of you, such a tragic past behind, and yet here you stand, ready to face the enemy even if the next breath you draw will be your last!” A wild cackle escaped his lips before he regained control over himself again. “I can’t wait to see how your story ends! Don’t disappoint me my little Lonely Wizard!” and with that he turned about, returning to the world he had created, book tucked under his arm and laughter still on his lips. “What a wonderful tragedy!” He certainly wouldn’t be bored now!

Back in the Hogwarts castle, Harry felt a chill go up his spine, he looked up from his book, suddenly fearful of the dark bookshelves and the eerie quiet that seemed to ring in his ears. Tucking the cloak back around himself Harry took the book back to the shelf he had found it on and gently wrapped the chain back around, before sliding it back into place. Quietly, the words melted back into German and gained their half-peeled quality to them, looking for every intent and purpose as if it hadn’t been read. Picking up the lantern, he hid under the cloak and meandered back to the dorm rooms, berating himself. Harry couldn’t believe that he had let himself get distracted so easily from his original goal. Now he’d have to go back tomorrow, which would be infinitely more dangerous if the teachers found out there had been someone in the library. As Harry climbed back into bed and listened to the snores of his best friend Ron he couldn’t help but think back to the foreboding  he felt around that book. Maybe there was a reason for it to be in the restricted section after all.

Just as well, he thought as he turned over.  The book wasn’t finished anyway.

 

Finally back in the world of his fairytales, Drosselmeyer sat down in his rocking chair and opened the book he had taken back up, watching as words continued to streak across the page. A slow, unnatural grin crept across his face as he read each line of his new subjects life. Yes. This little wizard was proving to be very interesting indeed. He was more enthralling than Siegfried, his own character, rivaling the young prince in his kindness and compassion, but possessing a will of steel and a deep hatred and resentment. Oh! He did wonder how those two would get along! Giggling, Drosselmeyer returned to the pages and watched young Harry’s life unfold.


End file.
